The perils of being a grouch

I know a live poker player named Bob. In the old days we'd have called Bob a real sonofabitch, but I don't think we're supposed to say that anymore. I'm not sure what the kids would call him, because the only kids who stick around when he plays are the ones with hoodies and headphones and a distinct lack of conversation.

Bob loves to complain. He complains about everything - the chairs, the food, the cards, the dealers, the chip-runners, the brush, the floor, the other players. And OK, the chairs are uncomfortable, the food is disgusting, the cards are slimy, the dealers don't pay enough attention, the chip-runners think they deserve five-dollar tips, the brush is corrupt, the floors don't seem to have ever encountered a rulebook, and the other players are other poker players.

But part of the deal with live poker is that we all know this, and we don't want to hear about it. Bob is breaking the implicit social contract of the poker table. Whatever our actual goals are, whatever our actual skills are, we're all supposed to behave as if we're there to have a good time. Bob clearly isn't there to have a good time. I'm not sure what Bob is there for, because it definitely isn't winning.

When Bob breaks the social rules he doesn't just do it for himself, he does it for everyone else too. However much we try to ignore him and talk about other things, Bob's constant stream of negativity dominates the conversation. And that means that the people who really are there just to have a good time can't do it at our table. The sophisticated ones end up on the change list very fast, if they haven't bribed the brush not to seat them with Bob in the first place. The ones who don't know there's a change list just leave.

Since those are the players we make our money from, their constant exit from the table makes the game even more miserable. Other people pick up on the complaints, and pretty soon the whole table is a bunch of grumpy, miserable players who can't imagine anything good ever happening to them. And of course in that mood, nothing ever does.

Bob likes to think he always knows what's best for the game, which is funny because there's never been a game that didn't improve when Bob left it.

Don't be Bob.